Bring Out Your Dead

(альбом: The Legend Of Libertalia - 2014)

Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, from noble house n' poor man's shed,
The plague has come to town, bring out your dead, bring out your dead.
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, to the pyres bright n' red.
We've reached the end o' days, bring out your dead, bring out your dead!

After seven months at sea, 'round cape horn with ivory,
We reached the british piers at the old port of tangier.
I went out to celebrate, with me Cap'n n' first mate,
We met with many wenches, gypsy girls n' pretty Frechies.

A pretty lass n' her sister, had a rash with nasty blisters,
But I've had me share of shy afflictions, fer lassies be me one addiction.
One thing to another led, I fell asleep upon their bed,
But woke next day with two dead whores n' screams outside me door.

Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, from noble house n' poor man's shed,
The plague has come to town, bring out your dead, bring out your dead.
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, to the pyres bright n' red.
We've reached the end o' days, bring out your dead, bring out your dead!

To find me drunken friends I ran, fer ye Spanish cost we sail begun.
As soon as we set foot ashore, me throat felt swollen, dry n' soar.
I with an old physician met, fer a medical opinion get.
He stared at me in stark dismay, said – Son you've got bubonic plague!

Come next morn', the quack was dead, with pus-filled blisters on his head,
But I felt stronger than before, and went out fer to the town explore.
The streets with panicked men where filled, half the town in plague was killed.
A flagellant procession yelled, repent or burn in hell!

Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, from noble house n' poor man's shed,
The plague has come to town, bring out your dead, bring out your dead.
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, to the pyres bright n' red.
We've reached the end o' days, bring out your dead, bring out your dead!

We sailed up north to native land, fer London went our merry band.
As we filled the taverns with our crew, I got a feel of déjà vu'.
Like in every other town we'd been, since the day we lost McGuinn,
People started turning pale, behind us now a deadly trail.

Suddenly I saw all around, people dropping to the ground,
Doctors clad in scary beaks, pushing barrows down the streets.
Their rottening load of corpses grew, in all it was a horrid view.
As a brazen bell the alleys rang, filled with dread I sang.

Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, from noble house n' poor man's shed,
The plague has come to town, bring out your dead, bring out your dead.
Bring out your dead, bring out your dead, to the pyres bright n' red.
We've reached the end o' days, bring out your dead, bring out your dead!